


Dreams and Visions

by starksborn



Series: Norman Osborn's Nightmares [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksborn/pseuds/starksborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norman's convinced Robert Reynolds is haunting him from the beyond, and the fear manifests in his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams and Visions

"You’ve failed, Norman." 

Loki is taunting him even as he scolds him and Norman frowns. He thrusts a finger at the man and advances on him. 

"No, your plan is what fail—" 

Loki chokes the rest of the sentence off with a firm grip on Norman’s neck, black lacquered fingers digging into soft flesh, pressing painfully against veins. He’s lifted up like a small child as Loki looks at him through piercing green eyes.

"My plan was flawless," the god hisses. It’s here that Norman remembers this is an actual  _god_  he’s dealing with. Not some OsCorp flunkie he can bully around. “It was your execution that was folly.” 

He drops Norman effortlessly, as if throwing away garbage. He turns his back as Norman coughs, landing in a heap on the floor and rubbing at his neck. Loki interlocks his hands behind his back and mutters to himself.

"Never fear, for all things burn in the eye of the sun, yes?"

Norman freezes and looks up, eyes widening a little.

"What?"

And suddenly it seems as if the very air around them is screaming, and Loki turns, engulfed in yellow and black light as long arms appear out of that black void that seems to hover just between what is and what isn’t.

Norman screams and scurries backward, not even having the wherewithal to clamber to his feet. The form chases him, grabbing at his legs and tugging him forward, threatening to fling him right into that dark empty void.

He screams until he can taste blood in the back of his mouth, clawing at the floor until there’s cracks in his nails, panicked to the point of delirium. He screams and screams. Screams for his son, his wife. He screams for Victoria, for his twisted Doctor. 

He wakes up like this, yelling and falling out of the bed and crawling away from it. He crashes into the wall under the window and that’s where he pauses, hands on the plaster in front of him. The moonlight coming in catches his eyes and he stares up at it, gleaming softly in the sky.

"Just a dream, just a dream," he whispers. He repeats it, over and over and over until the words muddle together incoherently.

"There is no Void," he says. He sits underneath the window, staring up at the moon with his knees hugging his chest, repeating the words like a prayer.

Or, perhaps, a curse.


End file.
